


Christmas Eve

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Background Meldrew, Christmas Fluff, Cooking, Daisy's Computer Skills, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Mentions of Phil/Audrey, Mentions of Skye/Miles, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Phil Coulson's got a Huge Cock, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5582086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson (College Professor) invites his young neighbour, Daisy Johnson (programmer), over for Christmas lunch. It's an invitation with extensive consequences for them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrilliantlyHorrid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/gifts), [notcaycepollard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/gifts).



> I saw the following OTP AU prompt on Tumblr and it bit me so hard I had to write it!
> 
>  
> 
> _Character A can't travel to see their family for Christmas, so they invite their grumpy loner neighbour Character B over for Christmas Day._
> 
>  
> 
> Being me, though, I twisted it a bit to suit my purposes!

Daisy Johnson's working late on Christmas Eve afternoon, coding for her final client, when there's a knock on her apartment door that distracts her. She curses under breath, then goes to the door and opens it to find the older guy from the apartment across the hall standing there. She's seen him occasionally and exchanged greetings in passing, but has never really had a conversation with him.

"Hi," he says, giving her a soft smile. "I know this is going to sound a bit odd, but my friends just called to say they're not going to be able to get here for Christmas – bad weather their end means their flight's been cancelled, so I – uh – I wondered if you'd like to come and have Christmas lunch with me."

"That's very kind of you, Mr Coulson," she begins, and he interrupts with an apologetic expression,

"I'm not asking you to cook," he says quickly. "I'll do that. I'm not asking you to bring anything, either, except yourself – it's just that I've got enough food to feed four, and there's only one of me, so you'd be doing me a huge favour."

She stares at him for a long moment, considering him: he's in his forties, she thinks, with receding hair, crow's feet around his blue-grey eyes, and laughter lines around his mouth. He's wearing a really soft-looking Christmas sweater over a navy blue button-down, which he's teamed with tight-fitting black denim jeans, and as she looks him over, she thinks about the fact that she'll probably end up eating beans with toast if she turns him down.

"Yeah," she says, and his face lights up in a radiant smile that makes him look at least ten years younger. "I'd like that – thanks for asking me."

"You're welcome," he says immediately. "I don't know if you're the sort to sleep in on Christmas Day, so come over at whatever time suits you – lunch will be at one."

She nods. "Okay. Thanks."

He grins. "I'll see you tomorrow, then. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Mr Coulson."

"Phil," he says.

She smiles at him. "Phil."

He crosses the hall and goes back inside his apartment, and she catches a glimpse of lights and holly in his entrance hall before she closes her own door.

She realises she's still smiling as she sits back down at her computer desk, and she shakes her head slightly. She'll have to find something to take over there with her, she decides – she can't turn up empty-handed on Christmas Day.

AC-S-AC-S-AC

When Daisy finishes her coding she checks the time, then pulls on a coat and a lilac beanie before heading out to get some take-out, and find something she can give her neighbour as a combined thank you and Christmas gift.

Luckily there are still a few stores open, and after poking around in a couple of them, she settles on a Poinsettia plant and a large box of chocolates. She's fairly sure Phil Coulson's got green fingers – he seems the type, somehow. It occurs to her that they've lived opposite each other for three years since she moved here from Texas, and she knows almost nothing about him – except that he's a quiet guy. She thinks he's a college professor, but she can't recall where she got that idea from. Doubtless she'll find out more about the man tomorrow. She picks up some take-out from her favourite Chinese, then heads back to her apartment, and as she sits down to eat, it occurs to her that she's actually feeling mild anticipation about Christmas Day, which hasn't happened since she was a kid at the orphanage and hadn't yet learned any better.

AC-S-AC-S-AC

Daisy wakes early on Christmas day, and after making herself a pot of coffee, she showers, then spends what she afterwards realises is an inordinately long time in deciding what to wear. Normally she wouldn't think twice about pulling on some jeans and a button-down, topping off her ensemble with a sweater. But she somehow feels like she ought to make more of an effort, even though Christmas lunch with her older neighbour isn't a date. On the other hand, she so rarely goes out on dates, or even does anything vaguely resembling socialising, that dressing up seems like a nice change of pace. After a ridiculous amount of time spent staring at the three dresses in her closet (red with pockets on the front; hot pink and requiring heels; short and black with a plunging neckline), she finally shakes her head and settles on the jeans, shirt, and sweater combo that she'd normally wear. But she decides to change things up, and make an effort at being festive by digging out the red sweater she rarely wears – in her mind, red's a Christmassy colour, and she doesn't actually _own_ any Christmas sweaters.

At ten thirty she picks up her gifts, takes a deep breath, then crosses the hall to knock on Phil Coulson's door.

He opens it promptly and immediately smiles at the sight of her. "Good morning, Daisy. Merry Christmas – again." He steps back and invites her inside with a flourishing gesture that makes her bite her lip to hide her amusement. 

"Morning," she says, stepping into the hall, before she offers him her gifts. "Uh – Merry Christmas, Phil."

"You didn't have to," he says instantly. "But thank you." He accepts the plant and the box of chocolates, then says, "Come on through." 

Daisy follows him down the hall and into the kitchen, which already smells good – and she feels herself relaxing, her anxiety about being here melting away in response to the warm welcome she's received. She can see that the kitchen is clearly the abode of someone who likes to cook – there's a line of potted herbs on the window ledge, and it somehow doesn't surprise her that Phil's a man who grows his own herbs.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asks. "Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?"

"Coffee please," she tells him, blinking a bit at the offer of hot chocolate. It's something she associates with bedtime. "Black, 2 sugars."

He nods, then points at the stools around the table. "Take a seat," he says, and she settles on one and watches as he carefully sets the Poinsettia on the counter, lightly touching his fingertips to the soil, before he moves over to the coffee pot.

"Now, is there anything you don't like to eat, or are allergic to?"

She shakes her head. "I like all kinds of food," she reassures him.

"Good. I hope you've brought a good appetite with you." He smiles at her as he sets a large mug of coffee in front of her.

"Uh, yeah," she agrees, and hopes she's not suddenly blushing.

"Good," he repeats. "Now, have you eaten breakfast, or are you more of a coffee-only person?"

"I'm a coffee-only person," she admits. 

He makes a tsking sound in the back of his throat which Daisy finds oddly endearing, then says, "Well, you don't look as if you need to worry about your waistline, so maybe you'll indulge me by trying some of my Christmas cookies? It's a new recipe this year, and I've yet to have anyone else to try them out."

"Sure," she says, because Christmas cookies sound good, and the guy's obviously a bit of a dork if his excitement at the prospect of her doing a taste-testing for him is anything to judge by.

"Excellent." He doesn’t quite rub his hands together in glee, but she suspects he's barely restraining himself, and she finds herself smiling as she watches him grab a plate from one of the cabinets, before he takes a Christmassy napkin from a drawer, then loads up the plate with half a dozen delicious smelling cookies. 

She notes that he's wearing a black button-down with his black jeans today, and the shirt's topped off with a heavy, cream-coloured sweater with a reindeer's head on the front, and Daisy's surprised to realise that she finds his ensemble sexy. She covers her astonishment at this revelation with a big mouthful of coffee.

Phil sets the plate down in front of her, and she gazes at it for a long moment, then lifts her eyes to see he's giving her a hopeful look.

"These look wonderful," she tells him honestly. "Thanks."

"Not the healthiest of breakfasts," he observes, "but it's Christmas, and if you can't indulge yourself today, when can you?"

She chuckles, then picks up a Christmas tree shaped cookie and takes a bite. It's crisp, slightly burnt on the sharp corners of the branches (which she loves, for the record), and melts in her mouth, flooding her taste buds with flavours. She has to bite back the moan of pleasure that's threatening to escape her mouth because it'd sound embarrassingly like a sex noise. Her eyes widen with delight as the full effect of the combination of apple, cinnamon, and hint of orange hits her.

"Wow, Phil! That's amazing."

It's his turn to chuckle this time. "I'm glad you like it," he says, then crosses the kitchen to switch on the CD player in the corner, before he pulls off his sweater and rolls up his shirt sleeves. Daisy feels a flush of heat sweep through her body and she realises he's got very sexy arms. She averts her eyes, staring down at the plate of cookies, while he washes his hands.

She must be feeling really sex deprived, she decides, if she can react this way to a guy who's almost certainly old enough to be her father (she's 23, she figures Phil's at least 40, possibly a handful of years older). Then again, it's been three lonely years since she split up with her ex, Miles, and moved here from Texas. She masturbates, of course, but it's not the same as getting hot and sweaty with a guy (or a girl). She can feel heat building between her thighs, and she swallows, deeply embarrassed by the direction her thoughts have taken. She needs a distraction, and she's glad when a piece of classical music she doesn't know begins to play, and she can ask Phil what it is.

He answers, going into probably more detail than anyone needs, and she realises that 'dork' is actually the perfect word to describe this man. She finishes her cookies, half-listening to the CD that's playing, and trying not to think too much about how sexy Phil Coulson is – it'd be stupid to think about him in that way, she knows.

"Can I help?" she asks, once she's finished eating the cookies and drunk her coffee. He's been stuffing the turkey, and that _ought_ to be the unsexiest thing ever, but apparently she's so deprived, that it's not. She blames his hands – seeing the way he pushes his hand inside the turkey has her imagination racing, and it's really _not_ her fault, honestly. She just needs a good fuck, that's all. But with someone else, obviously.

"You're a guest," he objects.

She snorts. "Yeah, sure, but I'm not exactly a 'sit idly by like the lady of the manor' kind of girl."

He smirks, and she raises her eyebrows, wondering why he's smirking. He shakes his head. "Sorry, just picturing you in some Austen-style costume, ordering your serfs around."

Daisy laughs. "You know, you're a real dork," she tells him, slipping off the stool and carrying her plate and mug across to set them on the counter alongside the sink.

"Guilty as charged," he tells her, his eyes twinkling in obvious enjoyment of her teasing.

"Luckily for you, though, I like dorks."

"Lucky me," he agrees, clearly amused that he's won her approval. She feels a warmth in her chest that makes her wish she'd kept quiet – she has to keep telling herself there's no way he'd be interested in her.

"You can wash and prep the veggies." He gestures at the carrots, Brussel sprouts, and potatoes sitting in bags on the counter near the sink. "If you're serious about helping."

"Yeah, Phil, I'm serious." 

She pulls off her sweater and drops it on top of his where he'd put it on the seat of the rocking chair. She doesn't comment on the fact he owns a rocking chair – they've already established the man's a dork. She rolls up her shirt sleeves, then washes her hands before she sets to work.

She quickly settles into the rhythm of working alongside Phil, and she even finds herself enjoying it, even though she's always considered that she hasn't got even one domestic bone in her body. She's surprised to find, too, that she and Phil work well together – they move around each other easily, like a long-married couple, and she idly wonders what it would be like to be married to him.

They talk as they work, and she discovers that she was right about him being a college professor – he teaches History, as well as coaching the baseball team.

"That explains your arms," she says without thinking.

"My arms need explaining?" he asks, smirking at her, and Daisy feels herself growing warm.

"Well, your arms are pretty impressive, Phil, I've gotta tell you. She reaches up and curls her hand around his bicep. "Plenty of muscle there."

She realises that he's blushing, and immediately feels flustered that she's caused _him_ to blush – if anyone should be blushing it's her for manhandling him without permission. She lets go of his arm quickly, then does her best to distract him by asking if she can use the bathroom. 

He directs her to it – although it's not strictly necessary since their apartments are mirror images of each other. Once she's done her business in the very clean, well appointed bathroom, she can't resist taking a quick peek into the master bedroom. She's sees it's as clean and well organised as the rest of the apartment: the king bed is made, with matching linens in a pale blue and white check, the closet door is firmly shut with no overspill of clothing, and there's a flat screen TV on the wall facing the bed. It looks cosy and comfortable, she thinks, and a good deal more homely than her own apartment.

She heads back to the kitchen where Phil's putting the finishing touches to their lunch.

"Now we just have to wait for it to cook," he tells her with the satisfied smile of a job well done.

"So now what?" she asks.

"Now we'll have a pre-prandial drink, and adjourn to the lounge."

"Okay." She accepts the glass of white wine he offers her, and they head into the lounge, Phil's hand resting comfortably at the small of her back – it feels too good, she thinks, nevertheless revelling in the warmth of his touch.

She's realised that she wants him – badly – and it's a really inconvenient realisation. On the other hand, though, she's had more than her fair share of crushes over the years, so what's one more, she thinks.

"What would you and your guests do now if they'd got here as planned?"

He sets his glass of wine down on the side table between the couch and one of the two matching armchairs in the room. "I'm not sure I should tell you," he says, smirking again. "You've already labelled me a dork."

Daisy laughs. "Come on, Phil, you have to tell me now."

He purses his lips and shakes his head, his arms folded over his chest, but she can see his eyes are alight with amusement, so she crosses the room to where he's standing, sets down her own wine glass, and grabs his forearms. "Tell me, Phil, or I'm gonna tickle you."

His eyes go wide. "Okay, okay." He sighs in a loud, obviously over-dramatic manner, which makes her smirk. "We usually do a jigsaw puzzle."

"Really? That sounds like fun."

"Sure it doesn’t sound too dorky?" he teases.

She chuckles. "Of course it does. But it also sounds like fun."

"Shall we, then?"

His tone is hopeful, eager even, and she wonders at the easiness between them, even as she agrees. He grins, then pulls a box out from the shelf below the coffee table's top, and Daisy sees it's a 1000 piece puzzle featuring a street scene of carol singers in the snow.

"You and your friends do this sort of thing every year, then?" she asks him as they spread the puzzle pieces out across the top of the coffee table.

"Yep. It's fun." She shakes her head at him, and he grins at her. "Tell me about your friends. Where were they flying in from?"

"They're in New York," he says, and proceeds to spend the rest of the morning regaling her with tales of his former boss, Nick Fury, and his friends Melinda May and Andrew Garner, who, despite the lack of a common last name, are actually married.

Phil, Nick, and Melinda had all worked for an east coast insurance company called SHIELD, while Andrew's a psychiatrist.

"So how does an insurance guy wind up a History professor?" she asks curiously, not seeing the connection.

"I was in a bad RTA four and a half years ago," Phil says. "I was lucky to survive – actually, I died for about 40 seconds, and once I was through with my R&R – I went to Tahiti, you know, it's a magical place – I decided that spending the rest of my life in insurance wasn't something I really wanted to do. So I trained to become a teacher. History was my subject at college, anyway, so I just went with that. I went into insurance straight of college because the money was good – better than what I'd get if I'd used my degree for teaching. Nick recruited me and Melinda straight out of college – we'd been friends there – and I used to go out and assess claims. Nick always said I was the friendly face of SHIELD. Teaching still doesn't pay well, but I've got my savings and investments, and my SHIELD pension too, so I can afford to live comfortably."

"But why didn't you stay in New York to teach?"

He hesitates before answering, hesitates long enough, in fact, for Daisy to look up from the puzzle pieces she's been fitting together, and see the pained, faraway expression in his eyes.

"I – uh – I got too many flashbacks of the accident in New York," he says, making the admission in a tone that implies it's an incredible failing on his part.

Impulsively she reaches over and grabs his hand in hers, squeezing his fingers gently.

"If you died, even if it was only for 40 seconds, I'm not at all surprised you had flashbacks," she says gently. "Were there nightmares, too?"

He nods. "Yeah, there were." 

His tone is heavy, and she shifts closer to him on the couch, pressing her shoulder against his. "Are you okay, Phil?" she asks softly.

He nods, but she isn't entirely convinced that he is, so she remains sitting with her arm pressed against his, his hand still in hers. She decides the best way to get him out of his own head is to talk about herself, so she begins to tell him a bit about her past, skipping lightly over the worst aspects of being in the orphanage, and downplaying the number of times she got sent back by foster families who deemed her 'not a good fit'.

She feels the tension seeping out of his hand, arm, and shoulder the longer she talks, and by the time she's recounted, in suitably melodramatic terms, her final escape from St Agnes, he's relaxed enough to laugh at her anecdote and she smiles at him.

She's completely startled when he leans in and kisses her. It's not aggressive, and it doesn't even last all that long, objectively speaking, but it's unexpected.

"Phil," she whispers when he leans back, a questioning look on his face. "What was that for?" she wonders.

"Does it have to be 'for' anything?" he asks mildly.

"No, no, I guess not." She stares at him. "I'm just not used to being randomly kissed, especially by someone I hardly know." He opens his mouth and she just knows he's going to apologise. "I am _not_ complaining, Phil. I just think that I might have liked it a bit too much."

He raises his eyebrows. "How can you like being kissed too much?" he asks, looking bemused.

She smiles. "I guess it might be too much if it's unlikely to happen again," she says. "But if you're going to make a habit out of it, well then, I don't think I'd say I liked it too much."

He smirks, then leans in again, lifting his right hand to cup her cheek as he explores her mouth properly. Daisy feels as if she's about to melt into the couch, and she's definitely on the verge of embarrassing herself by orgasming just from a kiss – which, granted, Phil is a very good kisser, but it still would be a bit undignified, she feels.

"Maybe we can continue this after lunch?" he suggests, and she's a bit surprised by how diffident he sounds as he makes this proposal.

"I'd like that," she tells him, before she leans in to kiss him this time. She curls her hand over his thigh as she kisses him, her hand bare inches away from his crotch, and he moans loudly into her mouth.

"Daisy." He sounds as breathless as she feels, she notices, even as she forces herself to pull away from him.

"Lunch," he says after a moment, and he looks and sounds utterly wrecked.

"Yeah," she agrees, although she'd far sooner stay here and discover what else his wickedly good mouth can do.

He gets to his feet, then offers her his hand, and she lets him pull her up from the couch, then slides her arms around him, pressing her body against his. He feels really good in her arms, like he's meant to be there, and Daisy's not someone who really believes in Fate or Destiny, but she'll admit that she likes the way their bodies fit together.

He holds her hand as he leads the way back into the kitchen, and she's not one for PDA, but she'll confess to enjoying the sensation of his large, warm hand, with callouses on it from wielding a baseball bat, curled around her hand.

They don't talk much as they serve up their meal, but the silence is companionable, rather than awkward, and Daisy can't remember the last time she felt this relaxed around someone she's only just met properly, someone she's just kissed for the first time.

They talk about previous Christmases, and Daisy learns that Phil's also an orphan, although his father didn't pass until Phil was nine, and his mother died a year after he graduated, after a battle with breast cancer – he reveals that he'd accepted Nick's job offer for the sake of his mother's medical care.

He sounds so sad when he tells her about his parents' deaths, and she almost regrets asking him. Then she decides she should cheer him up, so she recounts the first Christmas she spent with Miles, knowing that it's likely to make Phil smile, if not outright laugh, since the story is full of mishaps and misunderstandings.

By the time she's halfway through the account he's had to stop trying to eat because he's in danger of choking himself. Daisy grins at him over a forkful of turkey and stuffing.

"You're a pretty amazing woman, Daisy," he says once he's capable of speech again.

"Well you're a pretty remarkable guy, Phil," she tells him.

He smirks a bit, so she elbows him across the corner of the table.

"Hey, no fair," he tells her.

"Why?" she asks, amused by his response.

"I couldn't hit a woman," he says, totally serious.

"Not even in play?" she asks, surprised.

"No."

"Okay, you're a bit too good to be true, you do know that, don't you?" It's unbelievable, she thinks – he's not only a big dork, but he's also a total gentleman. As far as she's concerned, that makes him a keeper – which is a dangerous thought to have, even if he has kissed her, but she can't help herself.

They finish eating, then clear the table, and while Daisy loads the dishwasher, Phil concentrates on filling a number of containers with the leftovers, which he stacks in the fridge. 

Once they've finished clearing up, he takes her hand in his and leads her to the master bedroom.

"We don't have to go all the way today, if you'd rather not," he tells her, his voice very soft. "We can take this slow."

She shakes her head. "Phil, earlier you nearly gave me an orgasm, just by kissing me, and I'm not great at self-control or being patient, so taking it slow isn't really an option." She reaches down to brush the back of her hand over his crotch, and she can feel he's hard, even through his jeans. "I really want to jump your bones, Phil." She draws her fingertips around the outline of his erection, and hears his breathing hitch. "Is that okay with you, Phil?"

"Yes," he breathes, and pulls her body tight against his. He slides his thumb down her spine, making her shudder with pleasure. He brings his mouth closer to her ear, then whispers, "I want to fuck you senseless, Daisy."

"Yeah." She's breathless with desire, her nipples are aching, and her sex is already growing slick with arousal and throbbing with want.

They undress each other, pausing for mutual kisses that grow increasingly heated until he's in his boxers and undershirt, and Daisy's in just her panties.

He draws her over to the bed, and guides her down onto it, then eases her panties off when she sprawls backwards across the bed.

"Fuck, Daisy, you're gorgeous," he breathes.

"Can I – " She gestures at his undershirt.

"I – " He looks away from her, and she sits up again, putting her hands on his waist. 

"What is it?" she asks softly.

"I told you I was in an RTA," he begins, and she nods, understanding coming fast. 

"You've got a scar," she says. "It's okay, Phil, it doesn't matter."

"It's bad," he whispers.

She nods. "Okay. You can leave your undershirt on if that's what you prefer."

"It's not fair to you," he objects.

"Phil." She kneels up on the bed, and wraps her arms around his neck. "Honestly, Phil, I don't mind one bit." She kisses him softly, then nips at his bottom lip before soothing the spot with her tongue. "I wouldn't think you're ugly, I promise."

He presses his face into the side of her neck. "Thank you, Daisy."

"It's okay." She pulls away, then kisses him again, more hungrily this time, and as they kiss she slips her hands into the waistband of his boxers and eases them down. She curls her hand around his cock – he's bigger than she expected – and his flesh is hot and hard against her palm. She begins to stroke him slowly as they continue to kiss, and he moans into her mouth as she slides her hand down to cup his heavy balls.

"Phil." She breathes his name into his mouth. "I need you inside me. Please."

"Yeah," he says, his breathing heavy and ragged. "Lie down."

She complies, looking up at him with so much desire that she feels like she might explode from wanting him. He fumbles with the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a packet of condoms (unopened, she notices). He gets the packet open, then drops the small foil-wrapped condom, and she sits back up and grabs his hands, squeezing them gently in hers.

"Let me," she says, and takes the condom from him, opens it, then reaches for his cock. He groans softly as she rolls it down his dick, then he climbs onto the bed and moves over her. 

"You don't mind me on top?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "No, Phil. I just want your cock inside me. I need you to fuck me, please."

He nods, then slips a finger into her sex, and when he finds her already very wet, he gives her a bit of a cheeky grin before he guides his dick into her.

Daisy can't help moaning loudly at the sensation of his cock filling her sex. "Fuck, Phil. You feel so good."

"You too," he gasps. "Fuck yes, Daisy." He draws back, and they both moan loudly when he thrusts into her again. He begins to move at a steady pace and she wraps her legs around him, lifting her hips to meet his as he thrusts deeper and harder.

She isn't surprised when she comes quickly, before he's been fucking her for very long. He grunts when her muscles contract around his cock, and he pauses for a few moments before he resumes thrusting.

"More Phil," she gasps. "Harder."

"Daisy," he groans, but nevertheless he picks up the pace until he's fucking her so hard that she thinks he might actually fuck her through the mattress. She comes a second time, gasping his name, and then he's coming too, his cock throbbing hard deep inside her.

"Oh fuck, Phil." She groans as he slips his arms under her body and rolls them over so that she's lying on top of him, his cock still buried inside her.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Yeah, Daisy, that was so good."

He kisses her and she kisses back, biting on his bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth, and enjoying the back and forth as they trade kisses. When they finally pause to catch their breath she puts her head on his shoulder and he strokes a hand up and down her back.

"I don't do this," he says softly.

"Do what?" she asks, a little confused by the non-sequitur. 

"Have sex with someone I hardly know."

"Me either," she assures him. "I – It's – uh – it's been three years for me. I split up with my last guy and moved here from Texas, and I haven't even been on a date in that time."

"Daisy," he says softly, and gives her a brief kiss on the lips. "My last partner was four and a half years ago. Her name was Audrey. She couldn't cope with my flashbacks and nightmares after the accident. We weren't even living together – because I was on the road so much for SHIELD – so it was kinda easy for us to drift apart. We didn't officially split up until I moved here."

He closes his eyes for a moment, then says, "You – I don't know if I can explain this, but being with you felt right, like it was meant to be. It felt like there was an affinity between us."

She nods. "Yeah. I don't really believe in Fate or Destiny or whatever, but I feel like we fit together, like pieces of a puzzle."

"Yes," he says with quiet emphasis. "That's it." He kisses her briefly, then asks, "Shower?"

"Please." She puts her hand over his heart. "What about your scar? If you want to shower separately, I don't mind."

He smiles, and curls his hand around hers. "I think I can cope with you seeing it, now."

"Okay." She rolls off him, moaning a little when his cock, which is still half-hard, she notes, slips out of her. She gets the condom off him and disposes of it, and after they've helped each other off the bed, Phil grabs the hem of his undershirt, then pulls it up and off.

She can't help it – she gasps in shock when she sees his scar – it's huge and a bit scary, because she can't understand how he survived something that horrific. 

"Phil." She hopes she's not going to cry, that would be horribly embarrassing. She places her palm over the scar, marvelling at how close it is to his heart, then she leans in and places a line of soft kisses down the puckered flesh.

"God Daisy," he gasps, and she can feel that he's shaking with emotion.

"Okay?" she asks, sliding her arms around his neck.

"Yeah." He kisses her and she presses her body more tightly against his. She's a bit embarrassed to realise that she wants him again, already.

"Shower?" she asks.

He nods, and she pulls away from him, a bit reluctantly, then takes his hand as he leads her into the bathroom.

Once in the shower, they take it in turns to lather each other up with the shower gel, then rinse off, and then Daisy kneels down and takes his half-hard cock in her hand before swirling her tongue over the head. Phil groans loudly, then leans back against the shower wall, and she looks up at him, watching his face as she starts to suck on his cock. His eyes fall closed, and she smirks around his dick, then pulls her mouth off so she can scrape her teeth lightly over the underside of his shaft. He cries out in shock, his eyes snapping back open, and she grins at him – his cock's good and hard now, and she gets to her feet, then presses her body against his, pressing the head to her wet sex. He kisses her hungrily, then pushes his cock aside so he can work two fingers into her, and Daisy groans into his mouth as he works her to a fast, hard climax so that her muscles tighten around his fingers, trapping his hand in place.

"Phil," she gasps. "Please. I want you to fuck me again."

"Condom – " he begins, but she shakes her head.

"I'm covered, I promise. I just need you to fuck me. Please."

He picks her up and she immediately wraps her legs around his waist as he guides his dick into her. He backs her up against the wall, then begins to thrust, and she comes quickly, making them both cry out. As soon as her muscles loosen he picks up speed, and she scrapes her teeth down his throat as he fucks her deeper and harder, her back banging against the wall behind her. When she comes again she almost screams his name, and when she feels his cock pulsing deep inside her sex, knowing that he's coming too, she sinks her teeth into his shoulder.

"Fuck, Daisy," he gasps, then lowers her until her feet are on the floor of the shower. "Fuck." They're both a bit unsteady on their feet, and she can feel her legs trembling from the force of her orgasm. She doesn't care, though – she's just had the best sex of her life, and she thinks she might be falling in love with Phil Coulson.

They stumble out of the shower, dry off with shaking hands, then crawl into bed together, spooning up under the covers. Phil's body feels warm and compact and solid curled around hers, and she wraps her arms over his as they settle over her torso. This feels good, like she's found a place to belong, and while the thought frightens her a bit, it's exhilarating too.

"This isn't a one-off," he says in her ear as she relaxes into his embrace.

"No," she agrees. "I'm not a one-night-stand kinda girl."

"Never thought you were," he says in a reassuring tone, before nuzzling the side of her neck. She smiles at the sensation, even as sleep steals over her.

AC-S-AC-S-AC

It's another six months before Daisy finally gets to meet Phil's friends who couldn't make it for Christmas, and when Nick, Melinda, and Andrew arrive a few days ahead of her wedding to Phil Coulson she's relieved to find them friendly, charming, and full of delight for Phil.

"I've got to admit, Daisy, when Phil told us you were young enough to be his daughter, I was a bit concerned," Andrew tells her the first evening.

They're sitting together in the lounge (Daisy moved into his flat six weeks after Christmas), drinking beers and getting to know one another. Melinda's by Andrew's side on the couch, and Nick's in one of the armchairs. Phil's currently in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to dinner – he'd refused all offers of help, saying that he preferred them to start getting to know each other.

"And are you still concerned?" Daisy asks the psychiatrist. She'd been a little wary of meeting him simply because she doesn't have a good track record with psychiatrists, but he seems like a really nice guy, and Daisy already likes his wife, Melinda, who's tiny but very intimidating until you get to know her.

Andrew shakes his head in response to her question, smiling. "Nope. You've been good for him – he's a lot more relaxed than when we saw him last summer for our annual barbecue."

"He's more like the man I recruited," Nick says from the corner. "Phil seems at least ten years younger than his actual age."

"He's a lot more uninhibited, too," Melinda adds. "Must be all that sex you're enjoying." She smirks when Daisy blushes. "It's pretty obvious he's devoted to you."

Daisy smiles at the older woman. "It's pretty mutual – the devotion."

"That's obvious," Andrew says, smiling in reminiscence, which makes Daisy blush again as she thinks of the way Andrew caught her kissing Phil in the kitchen earlier – it had been a full body kiss, all tongue and teeth, and grinding against his body.

"Are you looking forward to your honeymoon?" Melinda asks, pulling Daisy back into the here and now.

"Yeah. I've never been to Europe before – I'm a bit nervous about it, but excited too."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it," Andrew says. "Just don't forget to do at least a little sight-seeing while you're there." He chuckles when Daisy tries to glare at him, blushing, yet again, at the implication of his words. She can't resent him for teasing her, though.

Phil sticks his head around the door and invites them to come and eat, sparing Daisy's blushes. As they make their way to the kitchen, Melinda stops her for a moment with a hand on her arm.

"Daisy, I want you to know, we're all really glad that you and Phil have got together – you're absolutely the best thing that's ever happened to him."

"Thanks."

They follow the men into the kitchen and Melinda immediately sits beside Andrew, while Daisy sits opposite her, between Phil and Nick.

They talk while they eat, Phil catching up on all his friends' news, and Nick talks to her about her work – he seems to admire her for becoming a computer security specialist, and when he learns that she once broke billionaire playboy Tony Stark's security, he stares at her in awe.

"That was what allowed me to set up my own business, actually," she explains, and realises that Melinda and Andrew are both listening as well. Phil is too, even though he's heard this story before.

"I hacked Stark's security – I was the only person out of over 1000 to break in, and I did it faster than Stark had predicted was possible. I won several thousand dollars for that, and then Stark hired me to fix up his computer security for him, and paid me a lot more money for the job."

"Phil said you taught yourself programming," Nick says.

"Yep. The nuns at the orphanage wanted me to learn 'domestic arts'." She makes air quotes around the despised words, and the others laugh. "But I wasn't interested, so while I was failing to learn how to cook and sew, I was successfully learning how to code."

"You've got better at cooking, though," Phil observes.

Daisy laughs softly. "Yeah, because I've got the best tutor in the country." She squeezes his thigh under the table, and he bumps her knee with his.

The others smile at Daisy's words as she adds, "I don't think I'll every be as good as Phil at cooking, but I have improved."

"Phil says you'll be moving into a bigger place after the honeymoon," Nick observes.

She nods. "Yeah. We – uh – we've decided not to have children of our own. We're going to be fostering kids, maybe adopt in a couple of years."

"That's very admirable," Melinda says.

Daisy shrugs. "I know how hard it can be, being in the system – hopefully we can give some kids the kind of chances I never got because I was bounced back and forth between foster homes and the orphanage."

"Daisy was told repeatedly that she wasn't 'a good fit'," Phil says, and she can hear the residual anger and disbelief that she knows he continues to feel at this misguided (his word) view.

"Well, given your childhood, I'd say you've turned out remarkably well," Andrew says warmly. "A lot of kids going through that kind of repeated rejection would have ended up in trouble with the law, probably repeatedly."

"Phil said much the same thing," Daisy tells him. "I'll tell you what I told him: it matters who I am. Just because the system declared me a problem child, didn't mean I had to become a problem child. Just because I don't know anything about my parents, or why I was given to the orphanage as a baby, doesn't mean I'm entitled to act like the world owes me any favours."

Andrew shakes his head, smiling, "I can see why Phil thinks the world of you," he says. "You're obviously a fighter, not a quitter, and a young woman with a strong moral sense of what's right and wrong. Phil's always been a bit of an idealist, despite the cynical veneer he's adopted in more recent years.

Daisy gives Andrew a baffled look. "Phil's the least cynical person I know."

Everyone chuckles. "Exactly," says Andrew. He picks up his glass of champagne. "A toast," he says, and Nick and Melinda raise their glasses too. "To Daisy and Phil, my favourite idealists."

Daisy can feel a blush heating her cheeks, and when she glances sideways at Phil, he's looking pretty embarrassed too. Somehow that makes her feel better.

"I wish you a long, happy, and fulfilling marriage," Nick says.

"I hope you'll always be as in love with each other as you are now," Melinda says. "And Phil?"

"Yes, Melinda?"

"You took your time about it, but I don't doubt that you've found exactly the right woman for you."

He grins widely at his friends, then grabs Daisy by the shoulders and kisses her in the most dramatic fashion, which leaves her blushing furiously.

After they finish their meal, Andrew and Nick load up the dishwasher and they take their mugs of coffee back into the lounge, where Daisy circumvents the lack of sufficient seats by sitting sideways on Phil's lap, her legs dangling over the arms of Phil's armchair.

Eventually Nick and the others declare they're ready to catch up on their sleep, and they get to their feet, exchanging hugs all around before they make their way downstairs to find a cab to take them back to their hotel.

"We'll see you tomorrow," Melinda says to Daisy.

"Yeah," she says. She's feeling slightly overwhelmed by how easily Phil's friends have accepted her, but it feels good, too.

Once the others have left, Phil turns to her and smirks – a smirk with which she's become very familiar in the last six months.

"Bed?" he suggests, and she smirks back at him.

"Yeah, Phil. Take me to bed and fuck me senseless."

He laughs. "I can do that."

As he grabs her hand and leads her to their bedroom Daisy hopes that Fate, or Destiny, will be kind and give them many years together, because she's never been happier than she is right now.


End file.
